


The More Things Change, the Less They Stay the Same

by misura



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Community: dark_fest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's always been the guy on the other side, the guy taking out the people who are protecting someone, before he takes out that someone, too.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The More Things Change, the Less They Stay the Same

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Chuck/Casey, You can't show weakness when you're undercover with dangerous people._

It's been decided that having Walker show up as Chuck's girlfriend all the time at their undercover missions isn't a good idea (people might begin to notice a pattern) and so, General Beckman informs Casey without a hint of embarrassment or a shred of pity, on this next mission Casey will be posing as Chuck's boyfriend.

"Don't you guys have a policy of 'don't ask, don't tell'?" Chuck, as always, asks the dumb question.

Casey glowers at him. Walker, he notices, looks slightly uncomfortable. Probably feeling sorry for poor Chuck - which is kind of insulting, really. It's not as if Casey can't be a damn fine (fake) boyfriend when his country demands it of him.

"Oh, right," Chuck says. "Don't ask, eh?"

"Don't ask any stupid questions and we won't tell you to shut the hell up," Casey growls.

"Is there going to be a problem?"

You don't, of course, tell a general to shut the hell up - not if you want to keep your rank, your job and your license to kill, that is. "Not at all, ma'am." Casey smiles at Walker. "Looking forwards to it."

He gets three slightly disturbed looks. Clearly, irony is a dying art.

General Beckman clears her throat. "That will be all. Good luck."

"That was a joke, right?" Chuck asks. Casey ignores him. "Right? Casey?"

 

"So um, I was kind of wondering ... "

Casey grunts. Chuck seems to mistake this for encouragement, instead of an indication that Casey's gotten a slight headache from that customer with the wailing baby and the loud voice who wouldn't believe him when he told her the toaster she wanted to get in ocean-green was available only in black, white and yellow, as clearly noted on the display, and is thus in a mood that might charitably be described as 'annoyed, dangerous and capable of killing a person with his pinkie'.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"Your usual will do fine." Chuck's usual is lousy - guy's got neither class nor style - but it's okay, kind of, because Charles Carmichael strikes Casey as exactly the kind of guy who hasn't got any either.

"I don't usually pretend to be - well, you know."

"What?"

Chuck looks uncomfortable. He does that a lot around Casey, really - one of these days, Casey should try and get him to toughen up some.

"Gay, all right. I don't usually pretend to be gay! There, are you happy now?"

Casey considers the question for a few seconds. "Not particularly."

The correct response would have been to tell Chuck to shut up, but Casey's been working on his people skills a lot recently. It's either that or openly bring a gun to work, and there's no way that would end well.

"Casey ... "

"Your usual will do fine," Casey repeats.

"Did Bryce - oh, you know what? Never mind. Fine."

Chuck walks away. Casey goes back to restocking CDs. Bryce, presumably, continues to be dead.

There are days when Casey's life seems to have hit an all-time low, because he used to be going places, killing people who deserved killing, fighting the good fight. And then there's days like this one, where everything simply seems more or less all right, if a little dull.

 

"Relax, will you?" Casey's against drinking while at work in principle, but the way he looks at it, Chuck might be more useful to him passed out than sober. Probably wouldn't even take that many drinks; guy's a lightweight in anything else so probably in this, too.

"Excuse me?"

Casey cuts Chuck some slack; it could be he's just flashed on something or someone, and while Casey has got absolutely no idea what it's like to have a computer in your head (and isn't particularly keen to find out, truth be told) he imagines it might be a little distracting.

Yet another reason why people like Chuck should simply stay in the car and leave the spy-stuff to people like Casey.

"Relax, please?"

"Yeah, I don't think it works like that. But nice try - thanks for uh caring."

Chuck's smiling. Casey hopes it's because he's a little drunk, instead of because he really is stupid enough to think this is all some kind of game.

"Relax, or I'll kill you." Third time's the charm, supposedly. It's been a long time since Casey's believed in things like luck though. He's never killed someone because he was _lucky_.

"Not helping." Casey doesn't reach for his gun. Given where they are, that probably wouldn't go over well. He reaches for Chuck, instead.

Who, predictably, backs off and raises his arms in a defensive gesture only used by people who want to get a knee in a place where it _really_ hurts (assuming they don't simply get shot). "I'm relaxing, I'm relaxing! I swear!" Chuck lowers his arms. "See?" He sits down, reaches for his drink. "This is me, relaxing, just the way I always do when someone is threatening to kill me. I always find death-threats _very_ relaxing, don't you?"

Casey grunts. Chuck hunches his shoulders. A blonde guy who looks like he spends half his day at the beach and half his day at the sportschool is looking at Casey and lifting his drink.

He's not Chuck, so Casey supposes he'll do just fine.

 

"Couldn't help but notice you were checking out my boyfriend."

It's the smile that gets them every time. The dumb ones, at least. This one's reaction is pretty standard; there's the blank look, slowly being replaced by the confused look, which gradually fades into the 'oh, good, this guy's dumb, so maybe he'll have sex with me' look. Moron.

"Actually, you're the one I was checking out. John." The outstretched hand makes it clear it's an introduction, not a reason to ask for immediate extraction.

"Kind of tacky, don't you think, hitting on another guy's boyfriend?"

"You seemed to be having some trouble." Blondie gestures with his drink.

Casey sits down. Chuck is still at the bar and doesn't seem to plan on moving soon.

"And hey, no offense, but I think you could do a lot better."

"Sorry," Casey says.

He gets another one of those blank looks, although this one goes from blank to confused to 'this guy may be drunker than I thought'. "What for?"

On the other end of the room, an argument turns loud, then ugly. Chuck appears to have finally noticed Casey is no longer sitting next to him. Casey quietly thanks Sarah for her perfect timing.

"You said 'no offense' but actually, I do feel kind of offended."

No blank look this time.

The language of guns is universal, even when you're using a silencer.

 

"Can I ask you something personal?"

At work (that is to say: at the Buy More, which is not _work_ for Casey, nor will it ever be) the next day he gets waylaid by Chuck. Predictably.

Casey shrugs. "It's your health."

It doesn't take Chuck very long to get it. "Oh, ha, ha, that's ... that's very funny, Casey." Interesting enough, Chuck actually sounds like he means it, like he's really thinking Casey's just kidding around. "No, seriously."

Casey sighs. "It's a free country, Bartowski."

"If you ... when you kill someone, how does that make you feel?"

Once a mission is done, it's best to relive it only two more times - once at the live briefing directly afterwards, and once when you're filling out the paperwork. The briefing was last night; the paperwork will be waiting for Casey when he gets home from not-work later today.

"Huh." Casey remembers the feeling of the gun in his hand, the shock of the recoil he's so used to by now he barely feels it anymore. "You really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?" Chuck's already begun to doubt though, Casey can tell. If he stalls a bit longer, Chuck will probably wander off on his own, maybe ask his stupid question to Sarah.

"Good, I guess." Casey says.

"Good," Chuck echoes. "You mean 'good' as in 'not bad, per se', or just 'good' as in, well, 'good'?"

"They're the enemy, Chuck - the 'bad guys'." Casey's heard Chuck and Morgan discuss games; he reckons trying to speak in a language simple enough for Chuck to understand is worth a shot. "It's kill or be killed."

"I think ... real life shouldn't be like a computergame, you know what I mean?"

Casey thinks that if anyone doesn't, it'd be Chuck, really. Casey's never played a computergame in his entire life.

Combat-sims don't count, after all.

 

"So, is it the same for all spies, or are you special?"

Casey's not sure why Chuck seems so stuck on this topic. It's a little morbid, he thinks. Now, if Chuck were to want to ask him about the 'how' or the 'when' of killing people, then sure, no problem. The 'how does it feel?' part really seems kind of pointless to discuss though - as pointless as the 'why'.

"Like, say, Bryce," Chuck goes on - and there's this moment where Casey's tempted to just lie and say that sure, Bryce felt good about killing people, too, and would Chuck maybe be interested in some lessons? Not that Casey's very optimistic about Chuck's ability to learn, but you never know.

"I think last night went well," Casey says. "Nice and easy."

"You pulled a gun on that guy who spilled his drink on me."

"I hate people who do that kind of stuff."

"You." Chuck gives him that look that's somewhere in between fear and awe. It makes Casey a little uncomfortable, actually. "You're just an absolute psycho, aren't you?"

 

The thing is, Casey realizes, in a strange way, Chuck may be right. Casey usually works solo, or as the leader of a team. He's not used to being stuck in one place, with a partner who's his equal in authority and maybe (just maybe, mind) in abilities.

He's not used to protecting someone. He's always been the guy on the other side, the guy taking out the people who are protecting someone, before he takes out that someone, too.

Killing people is what he's good at.

Protecting someone a lot of people want to get their hands on may be something he's not bad at either, except that he gets the feeling there should have been someone to protect _him_.

Chuck's not a bad guy, but Casey thinks that Chuck might be bad _for him_.

Pulling a gun on someone for spilling a drink is simply not professional at all.

He should have just gone for a shattered kneecap or something like that. Guy was standing up, after all; would have been a piece of cake to aim a kick at a place where it only _really_ hurts when you get kicked by a professional and are too dumb to get out of the way.

 

"I don't need to tell you, John, that the Intersect is important to us." General Beckman is sympathetic, if slightly puzzled.

"I'm aware of that, ma'am."

She nods. Neither of them is going to bring up the time when Casey's been ordered to eliminate Chuck, to save the Intersect from falling into the wrong hands. Past orders, like past missions, are best left in the past.

"A sense of personal attachment might not be such a bad thing. Unless, of course, you feel it interferes with your job. Do you feel this to be the case, Major?"

He wants to say 'no'. Saying 'yes' will probably mean a new assignment, a new identity, new guns and a new not-job to get used to while he's waiting for someone to kill.

Less than a year ago, he wouldn't have hesitated at all.

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

She seems as surprised as he is. Her face doesn't really let it show, of course, but Casey's been trained to notice things most people wouldn't. "Well. Now that you are aware of the problem, I suggest you find some way to deal with it. Was that all?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." He's not sure what for, really. As far as help with his problem goes, a formal suggestion for him to fix it doesn't go very far.

"Good luck, John."

 

Chuck has many failings, but failing to show up after receiving a phonecall isn't one of them.

"Hey, Casey. Didn't know there was a mission tonight." There's a note of excitement in Chuck's voice that makes Casey want to slug him - or maybe just tell him to go home, except that this _isn't_ a mission. "Where's Sarah?"

"This isn't a mission." Casey makes sure Chuck is in the car before he tells him this.

"Not a mission," Chuck repeats.

"That's right." Casey keeps his eyes on the road, but the mirror's angled to enable him to keep an eye on his passenger as well. "It's a date."

"I - " Chuck says. "Wow. I don't know what to say. Except ... are you out of your mind?"

Casey turns his head for a moment to look at Chuck. "The possibility has been suggested."

 

Nobody spills his drink on Chuck that night, which is good. It would have been better if nobody'd spilled his drink on Casey, either.

"I want to go home now, please," Chuck says, after.

"You're right, I should probably get this shirt in the washing machine." It's one of his new shirts, too, something he bought specifically because he thought Chuck might like it. "Stains might not come out otherwise, huh?"

If this is the universe's way of trying to tell him something, Casey's not listening.

Chuck looks a little sick. He's barely had two drinks. "Yeah. Wouldn't want your shirt to be ruined."

If this is Chuck's way of trying to tell him _'let's never do this again'_ , Casey's not listening either. It might even not be about that.

"Next time, why don't _you_ pick the place? Someplace quiet."

"Um, you know what?" Casey glowers. "That's a really great idea," Chuck says. "Yeah, why don't I do that? Kind of busy this coming week - make that month, really, you know what it's like at the Buy More - but maybe next month?"

"Make it Friday. _Next_ Friday."

He'll bring flowers, Casey thinks. It's traditional. Chuck might like flowers.

 

It all ends with a really big explosion, as Casey knew it would.

With sixty seconds left on the timer, he supposes he should think of something profound to say - except that how's anyone ever going to know what he said, one minute from now?

"I can do this," Chuck says. As far as last words go, those kind of suck. Sure he can do this. Everyone can die - and everyone does die, eventually. It's the bit before that counts.

The bit where you get to choose between a chance at saving a building full of people or a certainty that you can get one person out of there, and you choose the first one, because you're just stupid enough to believe someone else can do something you can't do yourself.

Casey doesn't ask 'did you flash?'. Chuck is frantically _staring_ , not frantically _disarming the bomb_ and Casey knows a freeze when he sees it.

He should have known better than to trust his feelings. Too late now, of course. They're on the thirteenth floor and it's been ages since Casey brought along a parachute on all of his missions 'just in case'.

The timer hits thirty and Casey hits the wall. It feels better than it would have felt to hit Chuck, at least on the end of the wall.

"Now would be good." It's a mean thing to say. Nobody's ever told Casey he was a nice guy, before.

"I - " Chuck says. "I ... "

And then the timer stops beeping.

 

And so it doesn't end, after all, except that Walker is insufferably smug about having saved Casey's life (she doesn't give Chuck anywhere near as hard a time about having saved _his_ life). She's also annoyingly vague about _how_ she did it. Casey suspects that means someone else was involved as well, someone who shouldn't have been there, but he decides to be a gentleman and not ask.

They tell the general it was mostly Chuck.

Life goes on. Casey can't use his right hand for almost a month. Chuck seems to think he's got something to apologize for. Walker stops teasing him and goes back to doing her job.

Chuck takes Casey to see a Star Trek movie. Someone spills popcorn on them, and Casey just looks at them like he wants to hit them (but doesn't actually do it).

He thinks this might work out after all.


End file.
